


The Escapades of Lyra Luxton

by lauralumos



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drama & Romance, England (Country), F/M, Forbidden Love, Love, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Real Life, Romance, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenagers, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 17:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12259119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauralumos/pseuds/lauralumos
Summary: With the simple flip of a coin your life can change in the matter of a heartbeat, atleast this is what the likes of a curly haired and impetuous Fox Samuels believes. In a cop busting meeting he bets his fancy motorcycle that he could change the life of law abiding and stubborn stranger Lyra Luton for the better, with the flip of his lucky coin.Heads; She gets busted by the police for being stubborn and boring.Tails; She escapes the law with him and lives life on the flip side.





	The Escapades of Lyra Luxton

"Lyra its your mother again, or Alane as you insist on calling me, I do wish you would-" _voicemail deleted._

"Lyra Petunia Luxton, this is your mother calling once again. I swear by the gods name if you don't answer your-"  _voicemail deleted._

"Hello dear... ninth time trying now. Please just call us back your father and I are so worried, we're-"  _voicemail deleted._

_"That's it, you are never to take a step in this house again, we're done."_  voicemail saved.

It was always a nice reminder to save the memories that reminded of how and why you got to the places you were now. Even sat drinking my usual banana smoothie with a chocolate chip and raisin cookie on the side, I was reminded of the times my nanny Roz would whip up the same snack every time I came home from school. Bloody hell that woman knew how to cook up a storm, it was what I missed most. For years I had longed and searched for a cafe, a restaurant and even food stands on the street corners of Surrey that sold chocolate chip and raisin cookies like my nan made, but there was no where until I discovered the town of Falmouth in Cornwall.

"I swear by the name of Vincent Van Gogh, I may have shot myself in the chest and gone to heaven," I said deliriously. I blew down the straw of my smoothie to create the mass of bubbles I knew too well pissed off the regulars in Falmouth's beach front cafe.

"Ah ma dame, but it was another who shot Vincent Van Gogh, not suicide," The thick accent of the cafe's owner, Laron, mused by correcting me with his usual facts of the day.

The man was a beefy Englishmen by looks; bald and ageing, but by heart he was a soulful Frenchman. With his daily sing songs of nursery melodies such as 'frere Jacques' as it's all people knew, or even french songs which I had no idea what he was carolling on about, the man never stopped singing. At least this is what I had learnt since arriving in Falmouth.

"But jeune Lee-ra, you've been here but five days and still, where's the smile on your face disappeared too?" It wasn't that I didn't smile, it was that I yet had nothing to smile for.

"If only I knew, but if you find it, let me know." I grinned with a mouthful of cookie. I wished I had time to savour it, but for once I had places to be. "Thanks again for the cookie, Laron," I managed a the tiniest of smiles; it was a start atleast.

"Have a grand day, Lee-ra." I wasn't sure how the pronunciation of my name came about, but I refused to be a damper on Laron's positivity and correct him.

"I'll try," I shrugged and with a skip through the cafe's door, I welcomed the day I had ahead of me and the time to endure this new place I was to call home.

It was walking through the streets of Falmouth that I was beginning to accept this place might just be perfect for me. There was something about strolling along the beachfront and inhaling the salty air of the English Channel I enjoyed, it was a lot more enduring than the bustling streets and stuck up people of Surrey. In fact those stuck up people were the reason I had moved here shortly after my eighteenth birthday, at least that's what we told the locals here in Falmouth. Only my aunt and I knew the real reason was the fault of the 'Family' I had left behind.

In Falmouth however, family and friends seemed to be priority. Everyone took care of each other's had learnt; needed a fiver? well you were in luck your neighbour already had one waiting for you, an 'IOU' wasn't even needed. The people of Falmouth were just nice like that, pure and simple. Even half the population being students from the town's university were decent.

The distance from the cafe to the home of my aunts took only twenty five minutes. Not that I minded the walk, it gave myself a chance to bask in the arts of the town. Splattered about the sides of most buildings, walls and even the abandoned cars in the wrecking yard I passed by was art like no other. Some called it graffiti, others called it street art but I thought of it as a gift. The street art around here was not curse words of simple tagging, these people painted a story of their lives and that was something I couldn't help but found myself staring at for a while.

It even inspired me to lift up the dusty camera that sat snug around my neck and take a couple of photos. It seemed inspiration was something I had been without lately. Usually my camera and I were one, my pictures were my solace. But in recent months I had a hard time finding comfort in anything. I wish I could say I had my friends and family to fall back on, but again, both were a department I lacked in.

Thanks to my inconsistency of time keeper, I ran the last bit of the trek back to my aunts and knew I was already late for dinner.

"Oh Precious you must quiet down, yes I know you're hungry.. yes I know that as well but you must be patient," the woman with the sagging cheeks and the wide set eyes were as alert as ever. It had only been a few days and I had already learnt the only thing my aunt and I had in common was our short person syndrome being only an inch above five foot.

I stood in front of the woman as she pondered over her pet Snail; A giant snail. "Audrey.. Aunt Audrey," I spoke gently and my aunt finally looked up at me. "I thought we were having dinner... about an hour ago."

I hated to pressure my aunt, every night since I had arrived my aunt Audrey had said she would cook dinner, but forgot every time.

"Oh.. OH!" the older lady jumped out of her seat with barely enough room to move around the small house. Well it wasn't a house of sorts, it was a caravan. "Yes, yes, food for us. Give me half an hour Alane and I'll cook you up your favourite; steak wasn't it?"

"It's Lyra, remember and I don't eat meat..."

I had mentioned the latter a handful of times now and still my aunt referred to me with my mother's name and thought I was a meat eater. Before I had come to live with my Aunt Audrey, I hadn't the faintest she suffered from alzheimer's until after a few days when her carer would turn up. My own parents it seemed had decided to leave that little fact out when I left my home in Surrey.

When I had tracked Audrey down, she was more than happy to have a niece she had never heard of before. In fact she was even happier when I offered to come stay with her for a while to the point I'm now in the midst of actually living with her. For some this might have been a deal breaker to leave straight away but Audrey was my family, and I never abandoned my family who cared.

"Oh yes, Lyra, my sweet Lyra, how much you look like your mother," my aunt beamed and gathered my face within the palms of her hands.

"Why don't you sit, enjoy the company of Precious," I insisted and glanced down at the Giant Snail, really this thing was a useless as Robin was to Batman. "I'll go out and fetch us some grub."

Before now it was a rule that I was never allowed to leave the house without an adult present. I had hoped that certain adult would be my own mother who would bask for the opportunity to get the know the daughter she had abandoned for so many years, instead she always sent my younger brothers nanny with me. I never had much freedom except when asleep at night in my old room. Even then I longed for the time before I was fourteen, back when my Grandparents had custody of me. Now though I couldn't have wished for more, turning eighteen had meant Freedom.

I wish freedom had come with a car that allowed me to drive to the local takeaways, unfortunately this wasn't so. Ordering over the phone wasn't even an option. I hadn't owned one since the age of Fourteen and my aunts landline had been cut off since she forgot to pay the bill. Walking was my only option.

The night was peaceful and the trip to the nearest pizza place was quicker than I imagined, within half an hour I had two boxes of pizza in hand. Usually simple trips like this were prepared, I would get from point A to point B as quick as I could without failure. In spite of this, my curiosity got the best of me when I came to a stop outside the wrecking yard. The 'No Trespassing' sign blew in the wind, as if challenging me to come closer.

The gate was already opened which by rights should have shot warnings through my mind, yet I proceeded through the dark of the night. The time on my worn out watch was a just past nine, I was sure another five minutes of waiting for dinner wouldn't harm myself or old Audrey.

Cars were stacked upon one another, towering over myself and shedding any little moon light I had before to see where I was going. The smell of ancient motor oil and gasoline was the first thing that struck me and it took a while to equip my sight to dark before finally reaching my destination.

A rusted lorry with missing wheel emerged in front of me as I rounded another isle of wrecks; Rumour had it around town it was here Falmouth's Banksy's latest work would be and rumour was right. Paint was splattered on the ground beneath but on the lorry, it was a masterpiece. Graffiti truly was an underrated art form.

I had seen pieces familiar to this one around town. The artist was channelling movie icons, this piece in particular appeared to be inspired by the film Back to the Future. The delorean time machine was the main focus on the lorry, flying through an adorant of colours that made up the the galaxy; it was nothing but breaktaking.

Never being a believer of curiousity killed the cat, I placed pizza boxes to the ground and skimmed a hand along the lorry. To my surprise my hand came back thick in paint, which meant this piece had been recent. It was then I heard distant voices and my feet became involuntarily rooted to the ground.

"Hello?" I called out, seemingly to no one. The wind blew louder, icy whips lashing at my bare neck and making me regret the haircut I received the other week.

"Bollocks," I sighed and glanced around, the comfort of my own company was starting to dwindle.

Whoever or whatever I had heard had chose to ignore me and thanks to my prying mind, I decided to investigate. I set off around the corner of the lorry and kept my paint soaked hand wrapped around the caravan keys that sat in my pocket. You could never be to safe now if an attack happened.

It was a turn of another corner where the source of the voices lay. Three guys and one girl were stood in a row, two of the boys who were identical to each other had spray cans in either hands, demolishing a once blank canvas of a wall. Next to them was a boy, well he was more of a man with a young yet attractive face and it wasn't his abundance of dark blonde curls that caught Lyras attention, but the way his hands move. They worked like magic, with big movements of a brush and using wheatpaste, he was quickly creating his next piece which from a distance I recognised as the late Heath Ledger's joker from the dark knight.

I couldn't help it, I was in complete awe. I must have looked like an imbecile standing there and gawking at these people who couldn't be no older than twenty. I hadn't even realised the tall redheaded girl they had with them had spotted me.

"Oi Fox," she nudged the curly haired boy and he turned in My direction, followed by the two identical ones.

With the help of a motorbikes headlights they had lit, I finally caught sight of the infamous street artist I had been admiring so much through the week. Never had I imagined what he might have looked like, in reality I never thought I'd come face to face with him at all. He was tall, but shorter than the identical boys who stood beside him and a slender yet lean build. His hair was chaos of dirty blonde curls, styled short enough that they didn't fall in his eyes, and his eyes? They were staring right back at me, and they were menacing and dark, as if daring me to speak.

Alarm bells began ringing in my mind and Instead of running in the opposite direction, I waved, I bloody well waved.

"Hello?" I stammered.

Just as curly was about to open his mouth and most likely tell me to piss off, the sound of sirens echoed in the distance.

"Shit, shit, shit!" One of the identical boys spoke instead, tripping over his own feet and scooping up the spray cans that surrounded them.

"Fuck!" the other yelled and gathered up his own belongings, he fortunately wasn't as clumsy his twin.

"Owen, Rhys, get the hell out of here!" the girl waved her arms at them both, "you can't wind up in trouble with the police again, GO!" her eyes were darting about, not once now looking my way.

The sirens were getting closer.

"And Fox," she waved her hand infront of his face, "Fox! for fuck sake stop painting and get going, we gotta go, like now!"

The boy, who I learnt was called Fox, carried on with his piece, a sly grin on his face, "chill Zo, we still got at least two minutes on the pigs."

"Yeah well I don't know about you but I wanna get the hell outta' here before I'm thrown behind bars." When Fox didn't pudge, the girl, Zo, gave up and began running.

My feet were still rooted to the ground and for lack of better terms I was scared shitless. It was not like myself to have run ins with the law and though I guess I could run, I hadn't the faintest clue where I could go. There was the option of running the way I came, however that was the direction of the police sirens.

"You just gonna stand there, princess?" Fox chimed into my thoughts, I was staring at him again. Somehow he had finished his piece and was now stood directly in front of me, toying with an old coin between his paint covered fingers.

"What.. huh?" I blinked at him.

"I said you just gonna stand there or come with me, unless you want to get caught of course," he was confident, I could tell, with that typical boyish grin on his face that dug into the dimples on his cheeks. It did somewhat snap me out of the daze I was caught within.

"Alright you're not answering so here's the deal," he held up the coin he had been playing with, "I'm gonna' flip this coin, alright? heads; you can stay here, whatever, be stubborn and let the police catch you doing something you didn't do. Or tails; you take a chance, come with me and I god damn bet my motorcycle on you, you'll have the best night of your life."

I wasn't even sure how the widened grin on his face and the way he called me 'princess'' made myself both flushed and want to slap him at the same time. The police must have been a matter of seconds away and with a choice to make, I felt like this was life of death. Maybe curiosity really could kill the cat.

"C'mon, c'mon, we don't have all day," his smile was finally starting to falter and he actually looked slightly worried.

"Olay, fine, do it," I said almost breathless with my hands raised.

He flipped the coin and even before it fell, I knew it landed on tails and then his grin was back in full action, "lets go, princess."

"It's Ly-" Before I even had the chance to tell him my name, he pulled me in the opposite direction and threw a helmet into my hand. Then I was on the back of a motorcycle, owned by a guy I barely knew and riding away from a possible run in with the law I never imagined possible.


End file.
